


Singularity

by literati42



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: AI Malcolm Bright, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Malcolm Bright, Biromantic Malcolm Bright, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, SCIFI AU, Slow Burn, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24435382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literati42/pseuds/literati42
Summary: Scifi AU: Malcolm is the greatest creation ever made by neurorobotics designer, Dr. Martin Whitly. He is an AI unlike any seen in this or any world.Malcolm "Bright" Arroyo is the secret last creation of a deranged serial killer.Both things can be true.And a lot of found family, friendship, and even some romance ensues.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Comments: 23
Kudos: 46





	1. Sentience

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT a new ongoing story?!? It's a surprise to me too! But it popped into my head and would not let me go so...here are!
> 
> I blame the wonderful humans on the PS trash discord server. I mean they really have to stop encouraging me like this (please never stop!)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> As always, find me on twitter @themythofpsyche, on tumblr @literati42, and on tiktok @profchrisagent. I will be doing pride month activities in all of those places starting in June!

Gil wondered if he could make a worse choice than the one he was making as he kneeled down in front of the truck in the basement of the Whitly house. He slowly undid the clasp. Fortunately, the Surgeon had a penchant for antiquated technology. No retina scans or heat signatures, just a trunk with a lock. Gil pushed open the lid and gave himself just long enough to take in the contents before slamming it shut again. He placed a hover disc under the trunk and it slowly lifted from the floor, moving in sync with him up the stairs.

When he got outside, Jessica Whitly stood waiting for him, her brow furrowed. She watched him load the trunk into the back of his hover craft. Gil walked over to her and she laid a hand on his arm. “Are you sure you can do this, Office Arroyo?”

Gil nodded, “I’ll keep it safe.”

She nodded, pursing her lips, and stepped back from him.

He got in and flew away, casting occasional glances at the trunk from the Surgeon’s murder room that no one could ever know he took out of the crime scene. It was a matter of life or death.

At home, Gil Arroyo opened the trunk again, but instead of looking inside, he watched Jackie’s face. “You know what this means for us?” she asked.

“If you say no, I’ll take it back.”

Jackie shook her head, coming to stand at his side. “You knew I was never going to say no.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Well, turn it on.”

It was in pieces, but Gil reached in and carefully pulled out the head. He cupped it by the back of the neck, touching skin that felt so real. His hand shook as he pushed his finger into the small crevice just covered by the hairline and pressed the button he felt there.

The eyes opened, the face animating at once, and then it was not a piece in his hands but a child staring up at them, blinking.

**20 Years Later**

This was the third body Malcolm Arroyo inhabited.

He was fortunate the Surgeon crafted multiple forms so he could “age.” He was cursed that every form he inhabited was created by the Surgeon. Malcolm raised his hand, flexing it out as his consciousness adjusted to the new body. Every piece of him was masterfully crafted by a brilliant man. Every piece of him was put together by a monster.

“Bright?” Gil’s voice called to him. It was a nickname from his initializing, a period Gil referred to as his “childhood. Malcolm was an adaptive artificial intelligence, equipped with some knowledge but capable of learning more. When he learned something new, Jackie always used to say it looked like something light up inside him.

“You just look…bright,” Jackie said once, and ever after it stuck. Sometimes it was “Bright Eyes” or “My Bright One,” but eventually, he was just Bright.

“Bright, you up here?” Gil said again. He came out onto the rooftop where Bright stood, overlooking the shifting, brightly lit city.

“Over here,” Bright said. He glanced down, but the ground was not visible at this height. He looked up again to watch cars streak by in the sky.

“So, how does it feel?” Gil asked, walking over to join him.

“The intelligence transfer was successful,” Bright said. Gil raised an eyebrow.

“I asked how it _felt_.”

“Fine.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” Gil said. He cupped the back of Bright’s neck. Anyone else touching him like that would send warning signals through his form, alerting him of a threat. It was not as easy to shut him down as it was to turn him on initially, but even still, a hand on his neck could indicate real danger. But from Gil, it felt like safety. “Any problems?”

Bright knew it was a terrible contradiction for Gil how well designed he was. Martin Whitly’s years of studying human anatomy—both through conventional means as a doctor and through his crimes—lent themselves to how he crafted his AIs. There were no other robotics designers that created anything compared to the work of Dr. Martin Whitly. In fact, the Whitly Form made him famous. It was why the name Whitly was known in every household long before it became a household name for darker reasons. However, none of the Surgeon’s public creations compared to the ones he made in secret. Malcolm’s three forms were masterfully crafted. His ability to mimic human thought was by far the most successful ever created. It was this that led to Gil’s conflicted feelings. Bright was who he was because of the Surgeon’s skills. Gil loved who Bright was, but Gil hated who made him.

Thinking of Dr. Whitly caused a surge of electricity from his threat systems. It was not rational the way even thinking of his creator could cause a reaction as if the man stood in front of him. Dr. Martin Whitly was on another planet in the best security facility on this side of system. Also, Jessica Whitly had her representatives inform the Surgeon that Malcolm and all his forms were destroyed. It was a safety measure for Bright as much as a way for Jessica to twist a knife in the gut of her former husband. There was no current danger from the Surgeon, and yet he still perceived a threat. Bright raised his right hand, frowning as it shook.

“What’s that?” Gil asked, taking his wrist and watching the tremor.

“A glitch.”

“A minor glitch?”

“I calculate the risk of cascading system failure to be minor.”

“I see your sarcasm systems are running smoothly,” Gil replied, but he smiled. “Monitor the tremor and let me know if anything worsens. It’s not like…your design to have such an obvious…”

“Flaw?” Bright asked.

Gil tilted his head, fixing him with a look. “Everyone has flaws.” He seemed to notice something in Bright’s face because he leaned closer. “There’s something else?”

“This is my last form,” Bright said, lowering his shaking hand. Dr. Martin Whitly crafted three bodies for him. One, a child. Two, a teenager. Now the third, an adult. There were no older forms. Bright could not go back to a past version of himself even if he wanted to. His consciousness had outgrown the capacity of those bodies. Taking on this final form meant there were no backups if something went wrong, no room to grow further or appear to grow older. “Do you think he never got around to making the other forms or that he never intended me to outlive him?”

“This body isn’t like the other ones,” Gil said, “We don’t know what it’s capable of yet. We have no idea how long it can last, and the robotics community will catch up with the Surgeon one of these days.” Gil squeezed the back of his neck again. “We may be able to find you another form one day.”

“Or I’ll die young as my father intended.” Bright looked up at the sky. “Die is a human way to put it, but…”

“That man is not your father, and we can’t know what he intended.” Gil looked straight into Bright’s eyes. Then Gil pressed is forehead to Bright’s the way one would their human child. He always treated Bright like that, as if he was not just the slowly dying creation of a disgraced neurorobotic designer, but a person. “But I intend for you to outlive me. We’ll find a way, Bright. I promise you.”


	2. Function

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Who is ready for this weird little AU to expand outward even more? I hope you are because it's about to!
> 
> As always, come find me on twitter @themythofpsyche, on tumblr @literati42, or on tiktok @profchrisagent
> 
> ***For a limited time! I am opening my requests. Details on this limited time situation here:  
> https://literati42.tumblr.com/post/621471260850995200/commissions-requests-or-trades-i-am-opening-back/amp?__twitter_impression=true&fbclid=IwAR2AbrSDCTaWaxOLTrDG44o0XcCfSSTZ7GOQr4AfFGlIMuagEKunyJLZ7kM

Bright walked into his room. It was a mix of practical and sentimental. A bookshelf and a human-style bed if he wanted to use it, alongside a pod in the corner.

“I want you to know, Malcolm. This bed is here if you want to ever use it, but I know you don’t need it. If you don’t want it, we’ll remove it,” Jackie said, once when he was in his first form. She was insistent that he choose what living as an AI meant to him. “There are ways you have to hide what you are outside these walls to keep you safe,” she said, “But inside these walls, you get to be you, whatever that means. If it’s ours, it’s yours. That includes the way we live. But Bright, you are different than us.” Here she took his hands, “And our differences are beautiful. You’re not human, but you are something wonderful. I never want you to feel like you have to conform to who we are.” She put her hand on his cheek. “We love you exactly as you are.”

Now, standing alone in his room, Malcolm walked over, sat on the bed, and slowly laid down. Sometimes he would lie there, staring at the ceiling, and let his mind process everything. Lately, he would lay down and go through his memories of Jackie. Malcolm did that most days since she disappeared.

Bright’s face arranged itself into a frown. He realized he never heard Gil come to the second floor. The AI closed his eyes and enhanced his hearing systems. He heard a clink of ice on glass. Slowly, Malcolm rose and walked down the stairs. He found Gil sitting in the study, two fingers of whiskey in his tumbler, Asimov the large, gray cat laid draped across his lap like a blanket.

“Gil?” Bright asked.

“Oh, I thought you went to bed.” He motioned, “Join me?” Bright nodded, walking over and taking a seat on the leather couch. “I was going to tell you in the morning. I have to head to Quadrant nine to check out an illegal augmentation ring first thing tomorrow.”

“How long will you be gone?” Bright asked.

“No more than a few days.”

Bright scanned his eyes over Gil’s face. “Is the trip concerning you?”

Gil smiled slightly. “You read people better than anyone I’ve ever known, you know that?”

“My creator knew how to mimic empathy. I suppose he knew how to design me to mimic it also.”

Gil shook his head, setting his glass aside and leaning closer to the AI. “No, Bright. The Surgeon faked empathy to manipulate and harm. I’ve watched you since you came into my life. You’ve learned, you’ve adapted, and over that time I’ve seen your empathy grow. You deserve that credit. The Surgeon couldn’t give you what he didn’t have.”

“I adapt to my environment,” Bright replied, “If I have grown empathetic, it’s because this home you and Jackie gave me was full of empathy.”

Gil laughed, the sound full of emotion. He cupped the back of Malcolm’s neck. “I love you, kid.”

Bright smiled, “I love you too.” There were times during those late-night staring at the ceiling sessions when Malcolm wondered if he was capable of love. He knew he experienced emotions, he even knew he experienced a deep sense of connection. But he wondered if he knew what the human experience of love was enough know it if he felt it. Yet, when it came to Gil, to this man who chose to raise him at great personal risk, there was no other word for what Malcolm felt. He was grateful, yes. He was connected. Somehow, he knew that it was more than that. He loved his father, Gil Arroyo, in a way that defied the nature of all artificial intelligences that existed before him.

When Gil leaned back and picked up his tumbler again, Malcolm frowned. “You never answered which part is bothering you.”

“You don’t miss anything,” Gil replied, “It’s not either of those. It’s just…” He waved a hand, indicating Bright. “You’re growing up.” He held up the hand to stop an answer. “I know, you’re not _growing_ , but in the ways that matter you are. You’ve learned so much. Your capacity outgrew your younger self. That’s growing up even if your physical changes were about using a new form.” He smiled, but Bright saw something between fondness and sadness in his eyes.

“Something about this new form bothers you?”

“No,” Gil said, “It was time to let go of the other forms. It’s just, we need to talk about somethings. Bright, Mal, you are an adult now. You can go out without me and not raise eyebrows. Your new form gives you more freedom, and honestly, you pass for human now more than ever. It’s going to open up the world to you.”

Bright nodded slowly, “You’re worried.”

“I want you to experience the world, but I also want you to be safe. The further out you go, the more people you meet, the more risk someone figures out who you are.”

“We don’t have any reason to believe anyone is still looking for me.”  
“We don’t have any reason to believe they’ve stopped,” Gil replied, he sighed. “Like I said before, one day the technology will catch up to your design, and you can go out safely. But right now, if people figure out who you are, they won’t see Malcolm Arroyo, my brilliant, funny, caring son. They will see an illegal AI made by a monster.”

“I know,” Bright said, “I read that story when Mary Shelley wrote it, and I know how it ended up for the monster’s creation.”

“Hey,” Gil said, leaning toward him again, “I’m not saying don’t go. I’m saying, be careful.” 

Bright lowered his eyes, “I hear you.”

Gil gently cupped the back of his neck. “One day you’ll be safe. Until then, caution, not solitude.” Then Gil leaned back and smiled softly, “Have you thought about where you’ll go first?”

The AI tilted his head to the side. He was a processing machine. As if he ever was not thinking. “I want to go to the archive, maybe to a lecture at the academy. Then I...” here he paused slightly, scanning Gil’s face, “I’m going to see Jessica.”

“Oh,” Gil said, then he recovered, “Good.”

“You could reach out to her when you get back,” Malcolm suggested. He watched his father figure take a slow sip of whiskey.

“Every interaction with Jessica is a risk,” Gil said, “If we’re going to take the risk, I want it to be so you can see each other.”

“She misses you.”

“We both knew what choices we were making.” Gil met Bright’s eyes, “And neither one of us regret it for a second.” Malcolm knew Gil’s love, never doubted it for a moment, but he knew that regret was not the only kind of pain a person could feel. “I better get some rest.”

Bright nodded, standing. Gil drew him into a hug, and the AI closed his eyes. By all accounts, a hug should be meaningless to him. He could feel it, he had the necessary sensors just like human skin, but feeling a hug as an emotional expression had never before been possible for an artificial intelligence. What did it mean that a monster had gifted him the ability to feel connection? It was an old question. Everything about his design was a question. At that moment, he could let it go, store it away in the far reaches of his system for later.

“Goodnight, Gil.”

Malcolm headed to his room, foregoing the bed in favor of his pod. It was a large, sleek white egg-shaped device Gil found for him after his initializing. Since then, the two of them worked together to upgrade it, adding features every year, until it was something entirely new. Bright crawled into the center of it. The hatch closed, depriving his external sensors of input except for the comforting sense of wires slowly snaking around him, providing him with everything his form needed to rejuvenate. As the pod worked, Malcolm started to separate his consciousness from the body. It was a sort of ecstasy, the complete freedom he found in these moments when his mind floated free of his form. He wondered if it was similar to what humans described as out of body experiences, but Malcolm thought this must be more than that.

As he began to pull free, he hesitated. Malcolm noticed something in the systems of the new form he had not detected before, a series of files embedded deep enough to escape his initial checks. He moved his consciousness fully back into the body and began to examine the files, prodding them. They were code, but not anything he recognized. They were here by the design of the Surgeon, like everything else about him, but his previous forms had no such code. The possibilities immediately processed through his mind.

They could be answers.

They could be danger.

Bright knew there would always be a part of him that wanted answers, wanted them enough to risk. There was another part of him that knew himself loved by Gil. Gil, who sacrificed so much for him. Who sacrificed freedom, safety, an uncomplicated life, and maybe even love so Malcolm could have an existence at all. It was those sacrificed that kept Malcolm from looking further. He pulled away from the code until he could find a way to examine them without exposing himself to needless risk. Malcolm stopped. He felt it, like a jolt of electricity running through him. The code executed without his consent.

A virus.

Images flooded his sensory systems. The trunk he was found in, the face of Dr. Whitly, a knife in a hand. They accelerated until he did not consciously know what he was processing anymore. Then darkness descended as everything shut down.

“Gil!” Malcolm shouted as consciousness returned. He thrashed the wires loose, the pod opening in response to his movements. “Gil!” He stumbled in his hurry to get free and ran down the hall, initiating a systems check as he went. “Gil?” He pounded on the door to the older man’s room, but no answer came. Slowly, Bright opened the door, finding it empty. He scanned the room until he landed on a halo disc. The AI walked over, waving his hand across it. It responded at once to him, and Gil’s face popped up, glowing on the screen.

“Hey kid, you were still resting when I left. I didn’t want to wake you since the new body always takes it out of you. Be safe. I love you.” The message ended, and Gil’s face disappeared. Malcolm realized then that sunlight was coming in from the window, full and bright. Whatever happened, it shut him down all night and well into the day.

The system check finished, and Malcolm blinked in confusion. According to the check, nothing was wrong. Yet, he felt the corruption seeping through him. He lifted his hand, watching it shake. The glitch again. Something was wrong with this form even before the code, and now whatever was wrong had infected him, so deeply he could not find the problem.

Malcolm stood there, frozen in place. His breath stayed steady because the systems controlling the homeostasis in his body were not programmed to speed his breath. Despite the differences in his physical reaction, Malcolm Arroyo knew panic in that moment.

_-_-_

Gil gave up his job as an officer for the Watch the moment he agreed to take Dr. Martin Whitly’s final artificial intelligence from the man’s underground murder room. Not officially, of course. Leaving immediately would raise too many red flags, so Gil slowly began planting seeds that he was discontent. He made choices to halt the progress of his career. He burnt bridges, using subtle indifference so that it was hard to detect. Gil waited until quitting seemed inevitable, and then he left without fanfare.

Gil was an honest man at heart, and the kind of disconnect it would take to love Malcolm in secret and investigate people keeping illegal AIs professional was not possible for him. Then there was the fact that every time he looked at Malcolm, AIs of any kind being illegal weighed on his mind. So he quit. For a while, Gil floated from job to job, but an unmoored Gil Arroyo was not a happy Gil Arroyo.

Arroyo Investigations was Jackie’s idea. Gil worried it would still put him too close with people who might be dangerous to Malcolm, but Jackie only replied that he had a mind for mystery. “And a mind like yours left idle leads to trouble.” It was said fondly, but they both knew it was true. “Besides,” she had said to him, “You can choose which clients you want to take. If they seem like a risk to Malcolm, don’t take the job.”

She was right, he knew, and so Gil opened his own company.

He walked into his office and began plotting his course to the ninth quadrant. Thinking about his time in the Watch, Gil was glad he left. It was only on the outside that he could see what others saw. The Watch, a group who would happily dismantle Malcolm for who his creator was but then benefit off his parts, was rotten at its core.

_-_-_

Agent JT Tarmel stood in the Watch headquarters, giving a skeptical look to the recruiting material. He shook his head, swiping the holo images aside. The door slid open to reveal a woman. Even in her department-issued service uniform, she was striking with dark skin, short hair, and a sharp jawline. “Come on,” she said to him. There was something fierce in her gaze that told him she was not the kind of person to make impatient. He followed at her heel. “I am Collette Swanson. Even if you get this job, you will never become familiar enough with me to call me anything but Agent Swanson, so feel free to forget my first name.”

“Yes, ma’am,” JT said, following her down a long, sterile white hallway.

She stopped at the third door on the left, holding her hand over it. JT expected to see a holographic face appear with an AI to confirm her identity, but the door seemed to operate on physical recognition. It opened with her touch. She noticed his look, but motioned him inside. “The Watch does not allow AI of any type on the premises,” she said. JT raised an eyebrow. That was definitely not public knowledge. The room was absent of anything, but a long desk with sharp edges. The agent did not wait for him to sit before she continued. “The Watch is well aware of your service record, Agent Tarmel.” She steepled her fingers, “Which is why we are assigning you to the AI task force.”

“I’m sorry, you want me to work on AI?” JT replied, “What kind of threat could a bot pose?”

“Are you aware of the work of Dr. Martin Whitly?” Agent Swanson replied.

“I am alive in the universe so, yes,” JT replied. The look she gave him was utterly unamused. She leaned forward.

“What I am about to tell you can never leave this room. I don’t care if you have a wife at home…”

“I don’t,” he replied.

“I don’t care if you do,” she said, glaring, “I don’t care if you have a priest that knows your every dark thought. No one can ever know what I am about to tell you.”

“Could you say a few more metaphors about how secret it is?” JT asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but continued, “What if I told you the Surgeon created a fully operational, conscious artificial intelligence.”

“I went to school the same as you. I know about the Whitly form.”

“Not the Whitly form,” she said, “Actually consciousness.”

“Conscious?” he repeated.

“Of itself, of the world. A thinking, feeling, adaptive learning AI. It could pass as you or me and move through the world unnoticed.”

“That’s not possible,” JT replied, “No one’s been able to make an AI that seemed human.”

“We have it on good authority that he did.”

“You think what, the Surgeon programmed some super-smart murder bot to carry on his work? A super-smart murder bot that’s done nothing in twenty years?”

“We don’t know where it is or why there would be no indication of it,” Swanson replied.

“This is starting to sound like the kind of stories kids say around the schoolyard, Agent Swanson.”

“I would think so too,” she said, “But we were informed of it by Dr. Martin Whitly himself.”

This gave JT pause. He knew the story of the Surgeon, the world-renown inventor who turned out to be something much darker. Someone who gave the world so much with his helpful AIs, while in secret taking the lives of others for nothing but pleasure. “So, you are hiring me for a task force to investigate a sketchy story by a known pathological liar.”

“We had our doubts too,” she replied, “Especially when he could offer no evidence. However, we’ve seen his prototypes.”

JT frowned, “What do you mean?”

“We haven’t been able to find his fully actualized AI, but we have found some of his earlier models. Perhaps you heard about Carter Berkhead.”

The images from the video screens he saw during his transition out of the army came back to him. “The man who murdered that upper state wife?”

“That was the story we fed the news. No. He was no man. He was a Whitly prototype. He appeared to be a regular Whitly form AI, until one day he changed and decided to murder the wife of the family he served. The attack perfectly matched the warning we received from Dr. Whitly the day before.”

“You knew it was going to happen and you did nothing?”

“No, we knew the situation not the who or where. We couldn’t stop the attack, but the incident made it clear Whitly was not bluffing. Now he claims there are other Whitly forms that are equally as dangerous. He also claims there is one more dangerous than the others.”

“The fully conscious murder bot,” JT said, crossing his arms.

“One so seamlessly created no one would ever know it was inhuman.”

“If you know that some of the Whitly form AI’s are secretly designed to murder their families, why not pull all the forms.”

Swanson steepled her fingers and leaned forward, “I understand you were away in the war a long time, but back here in society, the dependence on AI has only increased. A handful of dangerous AIs is not enough reason for us to cause mass hysteria and destabilize the entire system. No. The special task force you’re going to work with is charged with discovering and eliminating the corrupted Whitly designs without alerting the public. The ultimate goal, of course, is finding the humanoid AI.”

“To destroy it?” JT asked, somehow already knowing her answer. 

“We hope not to need to. If possible, the humanoid should be apprehended and returned to the Watch. If Whitly really has designed a fully conscious artificial intelligence, it would be world-shattering. We would like it in the hands of our scientists.”

“And of all the newly discharged soldiers in all the galaxies, why approach me?”

“Because, Agent Tarmel, it was not an enemy soldier who destroyed your battalion.”

JT’s eyes darkened, “No.”

“It was one of Dr. Whitly’s rogue AI.”


	3. Crossed Wires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back and things are heating up!
> 
> As always, please join me on twitter @themythofpsyche and on tumblr @literati42. Also the Pride Bingo is ongoing so join us for that through July 26!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Malcolm Arroyo was not allowed long to stand alone with his panic long. A knock on the door jerked his attention to the security system. He closed his eyes, registering the data it sent. He saw a woman standing at the Arroyo’s front door. She was beautiful, he thought, in the way he understood beauty to be defined. She had dark skin, brown curly hair, and a body used to moving fast through the world. She frowned in a way that said she was worried.

“Malcolm? Malcolm Arroyo?”

He frowned. Bright had few acquaintances in this world, fewer still that knew his name. This woman was definitely not one of them. He opened his eyes, keeping the security feed running in the background of his mind as he moved closer to the door. “I’m a friend of Gil’s.”

“Prove it,” Malcolm said into the comm, his voice projecting to her outside.

“The only thing he loves in this world aside from you, is his cat and his ship. He has some sort of weird name for it, something after an old fashioned vessel back when people drove cars a…Le…Le. Man? Or something.”

“Le Manns,” He replied. In the security feed, he saw the slightest twitch of a smile cross her face.

“He prefers real coffee to synthetic even though it’s a ridiculous expense and he doesn’t talk about you much because he’s protective, but when he does, the way his face lights up tells you everything you need to know.”

“Alright, so you’ve met Gil,” he said through the comm. “Why are you here?”

“Look, Malcolm, I know you have a…some kind of condition that doesn’t let you out of the house much, and I know you don’t like people—what’s to like.” The feed in his mind showed her shrugging. “But Gil trusted me, as much as he trusted anyone, and I think you need to hear what I have to say.”

Malcolm debated her words. He was alone on the day he realized something was wrong in his system, with Gil already a few sectors away. Here was someone who clearly knew his father, showing up without warning. It could be dangerous to let her in.

It could be dangerous not to.

He closed his eyes, letting the security system know it was safe to open the door before he disconnected to better focus all his processing power on the woman who walked in the door.

She wore black clothes that moved with her, a blaster on her hip, and a provision bag across her shoulder. These were the kind of clothes that allowed the widest range of motion, for running or for fighting. A pair of goggles rested on her head. She looked like the kind of woman Gil might meet out there among the stars, in the places where it was never safe for Malcolm to go.

“My name is Dani.”

“I’ve heard your name,” he said. Gil worked with this Dani sometimes, and he trusted her more than most of his contacts. She frowned, glancing at his hand.

“You good?”

He looked down, the appendage began shaking again. Bright glared at it, but no amount of processing power made the limb stop moving. “Yeah, it’s a…tremor. Genetic thing, like a stutter.” The lie slid off his lips. A lifetime of hiding may have hindered his social graces, but his ability to lie significantly improved. “What do you have to tell me?”

“You’re in danger,” Dani replied, “This house is compromised.”

“What?”

“Gil was detained crossing into Midot space.” She held up her hand, “He’s fine, but he believes someone is preventing him from getting back to you. So he called me.”

Malcolm narrowed his eyes, “That’s a lot to take on faith.”

Before she could answer, a chime sounded from the security panel on the wall. Malcolm turned, letting the security system of the house slip back into his mind. He saw the shape of a woman, standing by Gil’s door. She was dressed head to toe in a white cloak, the hood pulled up covering her face. Bright blinked, and the image retreated to the background functions of his brain. “We have to go.”

_-_-_

The woman glided to the roof of the house belonging to her mark, landing gracefully. Her white cloak fluttered out around her. She touched a button on her belt, a black line came from it, adhering to the roof. She repelled down the side of the house, her boots making no sound as they pressed against the wall until she found the floor she was looking for. The woman pushed off the wall, swinging out, and swinging back toward it. Right as she was about to collide with the structure, she phased through it, gliding into the house.

The woman unfastened her line. She stood in the hallway of a simple home. It was the type of place one would expect a retired former agent of the Watch to live. Humble, practical. The warmth of the house though, was unexpected. It seemed like the kind of place where a person would raise kids.

A strange choice for someone who’s only companion was an AI.

The woman walked down the hallway, lifting her wrist to look at the sensor screen attached to it. She registered three heat signatures: two people and an animal. She frowned, adjusting the sensitivity of her scanner. The woman noticed a slight difference in the heat from the two people. One was giving off a normal temperature. The other ran a little cold. So, it put off body heat, she thought. Most AI ran far colder. If this signature was her target, a great deal of effort had been put into making it seem human.

She drew her weapon, the blaster in her hand, as she silently descended the stairs toward the heat signatures.

A wave of static hit her sensors. Her equipment registered the noise like an assault on her ears. Then it all went dead. The woman jerked the device out of her ear and cursed under her breath, taking the rest of the stairs at a run. She rounded the corner to find the main room empty with the door wide open. The woman ran out, eyes tracing in all directions. They were gone, and without her sensors, there was no way to know which direction they took.

A smile crossed her lips. The game was on.

_-_-_

Bright sat in the co-pilot seat of the little planet jumper ship, watching as Dani flew in silence, her hands gripping the helm tightly. He held Asimov in his arms, letting the cat curl up against him. She was a Lumarian water cat mixed with a Maine Coon. The cats of Lumaria and Earth evolved similar enough to crossbreed them despite the planets only learning of each other’s existence in recent years. The result in the case of Asimov was a large, fluffy cat with a moss green coat of fur.

“Did you kill her?” Dani finally asked, staring straight ahead. “When you triggered the security system?”

“No, Gil didn’t install deadly security. That’s not who we are,” he replied, stroking the cat. Asimov purred, but Malcolm felt the nervous energy coming off of him. “I triggered a mild electromagnetic pulse on the floor she was in, too localized to affect anything you had on you and too mild to destroy anything important in the house.” He shrugged. “She was probably annoyed, not hurt.”

Dani let out a breath, glancing his way. “Glad you got the cat out.”

“I would never leave without Asimov,” Bright replied, squeezing the cat a little tighter, “And he’s part Lumarian. Brilliant creature. He would never allow himself to be left. Isn’t that right?” Malcolm said, glancing down at him. The cat leaned up and pressed his nose against his. Bright caught Dani shaking her head in his periphery. “What?”

“You’re so like him,” Dani said, “Gil, I mean.”

Malcolm smiled at the comparison, then turned his eyes forward. “Where are we heading?”

“There’s a safe house in Area 212. Gil knows to look for us there. You might as well settle in. We have a trip ahead of us.”

Malcolm let out a breath, leaning back on the chair. A part of him longed to connect to this ship, to let his sensors take over, to feel in control. After the day he was having, Malcolm Arroyo needed to be in control of one thing. But this woman did not know what he was. Back at the house, Malcolm pretended he needed to press buttons on the console to make the security protocols activate, rather than just ask the system to come on with his mind. There was no way he could hide any interaction with her ship.

Then there was the risk that whatever was wrong with him would corrupt the ship’s system.

Malcolm pushed the thought away, settling for examining the ship’s console with his enhanced vision, but before he could shift his view, his eyes caught on the clock, clearly marked in Standard Time. He sat up quickly, “We can’t go to Area 212.”

“What? Why not?” Dani asked.

“There’s someone I have to meet before I leave the city.”

“No. Gil was very clear.”

“I may be his son, but I am not a child,” Malcolm replied.

“And I am not interested in breaking a promise to one of the few good men I’ve ever met.”

“Then don’t,” he replied, “We’ll go to 212 after my meeting.”

She switched the ship to autopilot, releasing the helm and swiveling to face him. “Someone is trying to kill you. Someone paid off the Watch to harass Gil so he couldn’t get back to you. That doesn’t seem like the kind of someone we want to stick around to meet.”

Bright maneuvered the chair to face her too. “There’s a woman, someone I can’t leave without seeing.”

“A woman,” Dani replied, “Of course there’s a woman.”

Bright cringed, “Not like that. No. Ugh, no, definitely not like that. Not her.” Bright shook the thought out of his head, “And maybe not…anyone.”

Dani met his eyes, “Oh, I shouldn’t have assumed.” She looked at him. “I’m sorry.  
“I don’t mean it’s my sexuality or anything,” he said, “I just think I’m wired wrong.” He smirked slightly even though the thought did not make him happy. Malcolm wondered if Gil would have laughed at the pun. No, Gil would have recognized the pun, but he would never have laughed.

“I don’t think anyone is wired wrong,” Dani replied, “I like women. It’s a part of me. You don’t like anyone, maybe.” She shrugged, “Who cares. Nothing to do with being wired wrong. Asexuality is valid and beautiful.”

He gently petted Asimov, “I don’t know if I’m asexual.”

“Nothing wrong with not knowing either,” Dani replied.

“No offense, but I have now talked to you, a complete stranger, about my sexuality more than I have talked to basically anyone at this point, and I would like to not be doing that.”

Dani smirked, “Fair enough. So, if this woman is not some star-crossed lover, why are we delaying your life-saving escape to see her?”

“She’s…like family, and believe me, if Gil and I both disappear without warning her, she will raze actual hell trying to find us, which is not going to be good for our stealthy escape plan.”

Dani sighed, and even though Bright had only known her for a few minutes, he could already tell that look meant she was giving in.

_-_-_

Malcolm walked across the open area outside the academy. It was a beautiful day, which meant the students were out there in droves, sitting around the carefully manicured grass. They called areas like this the Green, because, in a city of silver, sections like this tended to stand apart. This Green was meticulously planned. Each walkway panned out in a circle like the spokes of a wheel, with what appeared to be a tree growing out from the center of it. Bright had been here enough times with Gil to know the “tree” was really a sculpture, brilliantly crafted, but not a living thing. Inanimate. Not even a synthetic life like him.

When he set the meeting place with Jessica, a wide-open space sounded beautiful, but that was before someone was trying to assassinate him. Bright tried to look in every direction as he walked, wishing he could safely connect to the security systems around the park, but if he left any trace of himself, someone could find out about him. Malcolm had to go in without his extra sight, like any normal human would.

His eyes scanned the area until they landed on the woman. Jessica was immaculate as always, in a dress fitting her curves in the sleek silver design currently considered stylish, with her hair falling around her shoulders. She sat on her own portable hover chair, and Malcolm could almost imagine her crinkling up her nose. “You asked to meet at a park, what was I going to do, sit on a public seat?”

If this were any other day, he might have started the conversation with a quip about the chair just to get that rise out of her, but this was not any other day. For so many reasons.

“Jessica.”

She turned at the sound of his voice. It had been months since Malcolm had seen her, and he felt something constrict inside his chest. He watched something come over her face for a moment too, as she looked up and down his new form. “Oh,” she said.

Malcolm stopped a few feet from her, trying to stay perfectly still—which always took effort for him—and to stretch out his glitching hand so she would not notice the tremor. He waited for her evaluation.

“So, this is your new…” Jessica glanced around, and though there was no one close to them, she dropped her voice, “I mean, you’ve grown.”

It was so frustratingly neutral. Malcolm wanted to ask her, ‘do you like it?’ but the words stayed tight in his throat.

Jessica took a couple of steps closer, raising a hand and placing it on his cheek. “It’s you,” she said simply. Bright thought he saw the ghost of tears in her eyes for a split second. “You look…like me.” It was true, he had though it, too. With each new form, he looked even more like her. Malcolm had no idea why Martin Whitly would do something like that.

He was not sure he wanted to know.

Jessica dropped her hand, “Do you want to sit?” she asked, motioning only to realize they were in the middle of the Green with only her hover seat.

“We could…” he glanced around again, looking for any sign the woman from Gil’s house had managed to follow him, but everything looked normal. “We could walk?”

“Yes,” she replied. She waved her hand, and the hover seat folded itself up and flew back to the exit. “It will find Adalpho,” she said. Bright nodded, and began to walk beside her. They made their way around the spokes of the paths.

“I can’t stay long,” he said.

“You never do,” and in her tone, he heard a note of emotion he could not quite place.

“Today, I have even less time.” Bright glanced around again, “Something’s happened.” He saw the tension in her at his words. “Gil is away. He sent a warning today. Someone is coming after me.”

Jessica stopped where she was, turning to face him. “It’s him.”

“I don’t have any details yet.”

“It’s him, Malcolm. I know it.”

“There could be any number of people interested in my design,” he said quietly. “Dr. Whitly could have told someone or…”

“No,” she shook her head. “You don’t know him. I do.” She put a hand on her hip, “That man can be sectors away and still casting a shadow over my life.”

Bright felt the tremor in his hand intensify. Jessica’s face scrunched up. She reached over and grabbed his wrist, lifting it. “What’s happening?”

“Something…it’s a glitch. Minor. Probably from transferring my consciousness,” he said, “It probably will adjust.”

“That’s too many probably’s for something that could cost you your life,” Jessica said, her voice dropping in the way it sometimes did.

“I will monitor it.” He looked into her eyes, “Jessica, I can’t stay, and I don’t know when I will be back.” He watched the words hit her, saw the pain run through her, and watched her pack it away behind a wall of determination all in the course of a few seconds.

“What do you need to get away?”

“Nothing, Jessica…”

“No,” she pulled out the device from her pocket and held it over the one on Bright’s wrist. “I am transferring you credits. Don’t argue, I have more money than anyone could spend in a lifetime, and Gil refused to ever take any. Your last minute escape is not going to make a dent.” A chirp sounded from his device as the money transferred.

“Jessica…”

“Malcolm, you are family. That is what you do for family.” She released his wrist, and he slowly lowered it back to his side. Bright looked at this woman whose face was so similar to his, whose life ran parallel to his. Malcolm wondered if she thought of him as often as he thought of her. He wondered what her life was like outside these stolen moments. He wondered what it would have been like to have Jessica in his life the rest of the time. “Go,” she said, in her deep tone, “Go, be safe.” Gil was frequently vocal about his love for Malcolm, but he also said, “I love you” it in all the unspoken ways. Watching Gil taught him to recognize those quiet signs. He saw them in her face, this woman who was almost his mother. “Go,” she said again. Malcolm nodded to her, turned, and walked out of the Green. He would not let himself wonder when he would see her again. He would not let himself.

_-_-_

Agent JT Tarmel walked through the doors of the most secure building in all the sectors, a fact he kept repeating to himself as he made his way to see one of the most notorious men in this or any galaxy. A man, who it turned out, was more dangerous then people at large could even imagine.

JT noticed the subtle things first. It was part of being a soldier or maybe part of the hypervigilance that combat left him with, but he knew something was wrong the minute he arrived. It was a tension, a spark of energy in the air, something so subtle he could not name it. He squared his shoulders and walked in, each door scanning him and permitting him to enter further. JT’s eyes searched the main room until he found a man standing by the door. He could tell at a glance this man was a soldier, and so with a nod, JT approached him, “I am Agent Tarmel. What is the situation?”

“You picked a bad day for a visit,” the man said, “Follow me.” He led JT down a hallway, motioning him to enter a room that appeared to be an office. “Stay here. Someone will come for you.” The soldier left without another word. As the door shut behind him, JT knew without having to check it was locked. He let out a breath and looked around.

Unlike Agent Swanson’s sterile office, this space was old fashioned, almost quaint. There were books, physical books, on shelves, and the desk was either real wood or a very impressive synthetic. JT walked over and knocked on it.

“It’s real,” a voice said. JT whipped around to find a man standing in the doorway. He was a tall, Black man, with a shaved head and a grim set to his expression. “You are here to question Dr. Whitly.” The man walked around the desk and motioned for JT to take a seat before taking one himself. “You can call me Mr. David,” the man said. He did not say ‘my name is Mr. David,’ a distinction JT noticed and filed it away for later. “Unfortunately, it’s not going to be possible for you to see him.”

“What’s happened?”

Mr. David leaned forward, eyes staring straight into JT’s. “Martin Whitly has escaped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you just read to the end of chapter 3 and JT and Bright STILL haven't met. I did tell you it was a slowburn ;) but stay tuned for next chapter...


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